John Denver — City of New Orleans

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail There's 15 cars, and 15 restless riders 3 conductors and 25 sacks of mail All along a southbound odyssey And the train pulls out of Kankakee And rolls along past the houses, farms and fields Passin' towns that have no names And freightyards full of old grey men The graveyards of the rusted automobiles Singin' good mornin' America, how are you? Sayin' don't you know me, I'm your native son? I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car Penny a point, ain't no one keepin' score Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle Feel the wheels a rumblin' through the floor And the son's of Pullman Porter's and the son's of engineers Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel And the days are full of restless, and the dreams are full of memories And the echoes of the freight train whistles clear Singin' good mornin' America, how are you? Sayin' don't you know me, I'm your native son? Yes, I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when they day is done But it's twilight on the City of New Orleans Talk about a pocket full of friends Halfway home, and we'll be there by mornin' With no tomorrow waiting 'round the bend Singin' good night America, I love you Sayin' don't you know me, I'm your native son? I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done Singin' good mornin' America, how are you? Sayin' don't you know me, I'm your native son? Yes, I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when they day is done